Fistful Of Tears
by purplepagoda
Summary: It starts of just like any other day. Another body, another day. But something is on Jane's mind. Will her deep dark secrets come to light, when she becomes the prime suspect? When a drug dealers body surfaces Jane's past comes back to haunt her.
1. Conflict Of Interest

She twirls the coffee stirrer, around, and around in her cup of coffee. She stares into the black pool of liquid. It swirls around. A hand covers her hand, and stops it from moving. She looks up, at the party on the other side of the table.

"What were you saying, Maura?"

"Jane are you ok?"

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You haven't heard a word that I have said."

"I'm sorry."

"Why do you keep stirring your coffee?"

"I don't know," she shrugs.

"You drink your coffee black."

Jane looks at the cup, "I know."

"Then why do you even have a stirrer?"

"I guess I'm just a little bit distracted."

"What is on your mind?"

"Nothing," she lies.

"Nothing? You've been distracted all day."

"I'm fine."

"That was half-hearted."

"Maura it's not any of your business, I don't want to talk about it."

"Here?" Maura glances towards the counter, at Jane's mother, who is paying very little attention to them, because she's waiting on customers.

"No. Location has nothing to do with it."

"You just don't want to talk about it with me?" Maura tries to understand.

"I don't want to talk about it period."

"Jane..."

"I've got to go," she insists.

"Go where?"

"I'm going home."

"Home? It's twelve fifteen in the afternoon," Maura reveals, checking her watch.

"It's slow. I'm not needed here. I'm headed home. Call me if you get a case."

"Fine," Maura agrees.

Jane leaves the cafe. She leaves the precinct, and heads home. She's can see her apartment, when her cell phone rings.

"Rizzoli," she answers, pulling over in front of her building.

"We've got a dead body."

"You're kidding, right, Maura?"

"Do I ever kid about dead bodies?"

"No, but maybe you should start."

"Text me the location, I'll meet you there."

"Ok," she agrees.

Jane arrives at the scene twenty minutes later. Frost has just arrived. She ducks under the crime scene tape, and heads up the steps of the brownstone. Korsak comes out the front door. He lets Frost walk past him. He blocks Jane's path.

"What's the deal Korsak?"

"We need to talk."

"Talk? What's going on?"

"I would just like to warn you."

"Warn me? Of what? I've been to a million crime scenes, how bad could it possibly be."

"It's not the what Jane, it's the who."

"The who? What do you mean?"

"Maybe you shouldn't work this one."

"Why not? Who is it?"

"It might look bad, given the history."

"History, what history?"

"It's Nicholas Bentley."

Jane stands frozen, she doesn't stand a chance.

"I know that something happened, with him, when you working with DCU. It's ok, if you don't want to go in there."

"When was he killed?"

"Maura says between three, and four hours ago."

"Good."

"Good?"

"I have an alibi."

"Jane you're not a suspect."

"I will be."

"Why would you a suspect? You haven't had contact with him in years."

"I haven't contacted him in years," she corrects him.

"He's contacted you?"

"Not in person."

"Jane, what happened, with him, exactly?"

"Not now, Korsak."

"Whatever happened, it's going to come out."

"I can't be here. I need to go," she turns to go.

He reaches for her. He gently grasps her arm. She spins around. She shoots him a look. "Let me go," she insists.

"Whatever happened in the past, is in the past."

"You don't have any idea."

"Jane talk to me."

"No. Not here, not now."

"When?"

"When I have to."

"No one will make you."

"Believe me, they will."

"Why do you say that?"

"The past doesn't always stay where it belongs. Sometimes the past haunts you like a recurring nightmare. It can stalk you like a relentless psychopath. The only difference is, it's only a memory, so you can never escape it."

"I know that whatever happened must have been bad."

"I'm leaving now," she replies assertively, and heads to her car.

Hours later back at the precinct Vince finds his way down to Maura's office. She motions for him to come in. She quietly stitches up the y-incision. He waits for her to finish. She covers the body, discards her gloves, and washes her hands.

"COD?"

"Multiple GSW."

"Do you know which one killed him?"

"His heart was still beating when he was shot in the head."

"But he was shot in the heart."

"The bullet nicked the bottom of the heart. It didn't actually pierce the heart."

"So death wouldn't have been instant."

"No."

"Any theories?"

"The killer hesitated," Maura guesses.

"So the shot wasn't by a professional," Vince throws out the idea.

"Or it was someone who knew him," Maura offers.

"Don't say that."


	2. The Real Me

"Where's Jane?"

"She went home."

"Why?"

"She didn't want the department to be under scrutiny."

"Because?"

"She knew the victim."

"Knew him how? I thought that he was a drug dealer."

"He was. She met him when she was undercover."

"So?"

"She was concerned that it would be seen as a conflict of interest."

"Why?"

"She thinks that she is going to become a suspect."

"And why is that?"

"She wouldn't say."

"That's odd."

"I don't know what happened between the two of them, but things went south."

"How?"

"She had all the evidence on him that she needed. She was days away from being done. She was driving from his place, late one night, and she was in a hit in run. All of the evidence disappeared. She was banged up pretty good. She took it really hard. She blamed herself, for not being able to catch him. We were never able to prove who crashed into her. Money buys silence. He couldn't by her silence, so he found another way to shut her up. It was a really rough time for her. She took a year off."

"That doesn't sound like Jane, to take time off."

"She worked for some consulting firm, for a year. She moved out of state. None of us heard from her for almost a year. I remember I was sitting at my desk, and I just happened to look at the calendar. I realized that the next day would be a year since she had left. When I looked up, she was standing in front of me."

"You didn't ask her where she was?"

"Yes, I did."

"And?"

"She told me that she had moved to Virginia, to work for a consulting firm. She said that she was back, and she didn't want to talk about it."

"And?"

"And that was it. We never talked about it again. I was just glad to have her back. She's one hell of a cop."

"How long ago was this?"

"It happened at the end of two thousand and three, it was New Year's Eve, I think. She came back December thirtieth of oh-four."

"I've never heard her talk about it."

"And you won't. She never talks about it. If you mention the name Nicholas Bentley, she walks the other direction."

"What happened?"

"I don't know, she never told me."

"Does Frost know?"

"It was before his time."

"You have no clue?"

"If I had to guess, I would say that she got too close."

"How do you get too close?"

"Jane always gives all of herself to her work. When she commits, she's in it until the end. She'll do whatever it takes to get her guy, and sometimes that can be a flaw."

She doesn't look up, when she hears the sound of stilettos clicking on the stick bar floor. She stares at her beer, as the ME slides into the booth, on the other side of the table. She drums her fingers on the tabletop.

"I thought that I would find you here," Maura comments.

"You found me."

"Now do you want to talk?"

Jane looks up. Her eyes meet Maura's. She maintains eye contact.

"Maura whatever you hear, about me, just remember, I'm not a murderer? Ok?"

"I know that you're not a murderer."

"You might think otherwise."

"Why is that?"

"Because I have motive, and means."

"You were with me at the time of death."

"People can convince you of things that change your view of people. Just remember, I'm not a murderer."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because things are going to come up."

"What things?"

"Things that no one knows about me."

"So? Jane I know you. I know that you're a good person. I know that you didn't kill him."

"I'm not a good person."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I'm not."

"Why would you even say that?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"Find out what?"

"The truth."

"About what?"

"About me."

"What about you?"

"The kind of person that I am. Maura, I am not who you think that I am. I am not a hero. I'm a cop, and sometimes I not even good at that."

"I really wish that you would just tell me what you think is going to be said."

"You have to find out on your own."

"I want to hear it from you."

"Why?"

"Because I am your best friend, and I deserve to know."

"And you will, but I won't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because if I do, you won't want to be my friend anymore. You won't want to have anything to do with me. You will never understand what happened, or why. "

"Jane, what happened? What happened that was so bad, that you left Boston? You love Boston. You love being a cop. Why happened?"

"I screwed up. I made a mistake. I couldn't face my co-workers, everyday, knowing what I did."

"Then why did you come back?"

"Because being a cop is the only thing that I've ever been good at."

"That's not true."

"You'll understand, soon enough."

"Why did you take yourself off this case?"

"Because if I didn't I would probably lose my job."

"How?"

"It wouldn't look good. Questions would be raised."

"Why?"

"Because of my history with the victim."

"What history?"

"I hated him, that's not a secret. I don't want to be blamed, if his murderer can't be found. Whoever did it, did the world a favor. As much as I hate him, I didn't do it. I would never do it."

"You don't have to convince me."

"I will," she replies. She slides out of the booth, and places money on the table. She heads for the door.

"Jane..." Maura calls after her.


	3. Suspect

Vince looks over, he finds Barry shaking his head.

"That can't be right," he insists, staring at the computer screen.

"What's wrong Frost?"

"I just got sent a ton of pictures."

"From who?"

"From Nicholas Bentley's email account."

"Just now?"

"No, yesterday. They went straight to my spam folder. I just noticed them."

"He sent you an email?"

"Yeah."

"What does it say?"

"'If I end up dead, Jane Rizzoli is responsible.' Then there are a bunch of attachments."

"Open them."

"Ok," he nods. He starts clicking. The pictures begin to load. Vince turns around to get his glasses. When he returns to Frost's desk the screen is black.

"What happened?"

"I don't think that she would want us to look at those."

"Look at what? Frost what are you talking about?"

"They're pictures of Jane."

"So?"

"I don't want to look at them, and I don't think that you should either."

"So you turned the screen off?"

"Yes."

"I think that I should be the judge of that."

"Suit yourself."

Vince reaches past him, and flips the screen on. He takes one look, and looks at Barry.

"Keep going."

"Vince," Barry protests.

"I'll do it."

"I just don't think that it's right."

"I'll do it."

"No, I'll do it. You can barely figure out how to turn your computer on."

"Fine," he takes a step back.

Barry scrolls down. There are only two more photos, and both are much less explicit than the first. Barry goes back to his spam folder.

"There's another one, from him."

"Open it!" Vince insists.

Barry opens the email, and the attachment loads. An audio clip plays on his speakers.

"Blackmailing me is not going to work. Just leave me alone," Jane argues.

"I can't trust you. You are a loose end," Nicholas replies.

"Why? I can't put you away. You have made that very clear. What do you think that I am going to do?"

"You want me dead."

"I have never denied that."

"I just want an insurance policy, that you're not going to kill me."

"That will be a cold day in hell," she responds.

The recording ends.

Vince looks at Barry. Barry shakes his head. He asks the question that they're both wondering.

"What insurance policy? What could he have to blackmail her with?"

"The photo?" Vince guesses.

"What does it prove?"

"It makes her look bad."

"When you're undercover that long, you do whatever is necessary, to get the information you need."

"I didn't know that was an option."

"For most people it isn't. Most people aren't willing to go that far, but Jane did. I don't necessarily agree with it, but she did it because she had to. She was young, it didn't work the way she wanted it to, obviously. She learned from her mistake, and she'll never do it again."

"You think that he knew?"

"I don't know. I guess that we'll have to ask Jane."

Barry opens another email. "This is from after the murder. It looks like an image from a camera outside the victim's building."

"Who is sending us this? He isn't. He's dead."

"I don't know, but look, that looks like Jane," Frost points to the corner of the screen.

"This bastard is trying to frame her."

"Maybe not," Frost scrolls down.

A courier approaches them. He hands Frost a package. Frost signs for the package. He pulls on a pair of gloves, and opens the manila envelope. He dumps the contents of the package onto the desk. They begin sorting through the papers.

"Death threats. All of them unsigned."

"He thinks that they're from Jane," Vince sighs.

"We should get someone to look at these."

"Frost I can tell you right now, that's not Jane's handwriting."

"The woman in the picture outside his building looks a lot like Jane."

"We never see her face. Jane didn't do this."

"I know that. We still need to question her. We need to go where the evidence leads. We should call her."

"No need," Jane enters the room.

They look up at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Helping. I think that I can make the pieces of the puzzle fit, a lot quicker."

"Ok," Frost agrees.

"We should go to an interview room. Do everything by the book," Jane insists.

Neither of them dare to argue. They follow her into the room. She takes a seat, in the chair that criminals usually sit in. They take seats on opposite sides of the table. Frost notices the manila folder that she has placed on the table.

"What's in there?" he questions.

"Evidence."

"Jane you want to tell your side of the story?"

"Well the dead man can't tell his, no matter how hard he tries," she points out.

"You have the floor," Vince reminds her.

"You two aren't going to want to hear this."

"You don't want to tell us?"

"I don't want to tell anyone, but I don't think that I have a choice."

"We can get someone else, if that's what you want."

"No. It should be the two of you."

"But?"

"What I am going to tell you is going to make you think that I'm guilty."

"Are you?"

"No."

"I'll take your word," Vince responds.

"No. Don't take my word. Treat me as a suspect. Figure out what happened, without a shadow of a doubt. This needs to be done by the book."

"He thinks that you wanted to kill him," Frost reveals.

"I did. I did want to kill him, but I never would."

"Why?"

"You'll understand, as soon as I tell you what happened."

"Go ahead," Vince nods.


	4. Out To Get Me

"He was always suspicious of me. He thought that I was a cop. I had to gain his trust. I had to convince him that I wasn't."

"That can be a tough role to play."

"I did what I thought that I had to, to prove that I was trustworthy. I got in too deep. I went too far."

"What happened, that night?" Vince questions.

Frost looks at him questioningly.

"The night of the hit, and run?" Jane inquires.

Vince nods.

"I thought that I had convinced him that I was just a doting girlfriend. I was wrong. I woke up, and I found him sitting next to me, on the edge of the bed. He had found my gun. He told me that he knew I was a cop."

_December 31st, 2003_

_She swallows hard, as he points her loaded weapon at her. _

_"This is department issue."_

_"No it's not. It's just a gun, for my protection."_

_"Protection? I'm your protection. If you wanted me to believe you, then you needed to put your trust in me. It's obvious to me that you're not willing to do that, because you think I'm the enemy. If you can't trust me, how can I trust you."_

_She touches his hand, "Put the gun down, and we'll talk."_

_"You think that I am just going to let you go?"_

_"Go? Go where? Home? That's the only place I'm going," she responds trying to play it cool._

_"You walk like a cop, you talk like a cop. You know how I know that you're a cop?"_

_She doesn't respond._

_"If you weren't, you would be flipping out right now. You have a gun pressed to your temple, and you haven't even flinched. You haven't even tried to talk me out of it. You know that the gun is loaded, yet you aren't a bit scared. Have you ever met a civilian, who wasn't afraid, when they had a loaded gun pointed at their head?"_

_"Why are you doing this?"_

_"You're trying to put me in prison."_

_"You're being..."_

_"Stop trying to convince me that I'm crazy, ok? I know that you're a cop."_

_"If I were a cop, then why would you let me get so close to you?"_

_"I enjoy playing with you."_

_"Playing with me?"_

_"I let you see what's going on. I lure you in. You think that you've got me, and then I trap you."_

_Her next move comes without any thought. She doesn't blink. She doesn't flinch. She skillfully maneuvers the gun out of his hand. He lunges towards her, but she already anticipates this move. She falls against the bed. She pulls her knees to her chest. He reaches for the gun. She waits for the precise right time. She kicks him in the chest, with both feet. He flies back, landing with a thud, on the floor. She jumps off the bed, and begins pulling clothes on. She slips on her shoes. He catches his breath, and gets up off the floor. He moves towards her. She cocks the gun. She stops in the door way. She points it at his chest. He stops dead._

_"You think that I'm afraid of you? Do you really think that I believe, even for a second, that you have the balls to shoot me. Not now. Give me the gun."_

_He tries to take the gun out of her hand. She holds tight. She pulls her hand back some. She shoots him in the foot. He screams. She leaves the room. She heads out the door, in a hurry. _

_She jumps into her car, and heads towards the precinct. Her gun sits on the passenger's seat, with the loaded magazine, still in it. She stops at the red light, on her way. She puts the car into park. At four o'clock in the morning, there was no one behind her. She unloads the gun, and clears the chamber. _

_The light turns green. She puts the car into drive. She accelerates through the intersection. She's too wrapped up in her own thoughts, and adrenaline to notice the car barreling towards her. It catches her on the rear driver's side of the car. It flings her across two lanes. Her car spins. Finally the car comes to a stop, against the side of a parking garage. She tries to get out of her seat belt. She sees lights coming towards her, from the parking garage. _

_The lights move towards her, too quickly. She tries to brace herself, but it's futile. The car hits her on the passenger's side. It doesn't stop. It pushes her back across the two lanes. The car winds up on it's side. It speeds away. She tries to free herself from the seat belt. It won't give. She tries to move, or get free, but she can't. She sees lights, again, and braces for another impact. _

_This car stops behind her. The driver gets out. She feels a sigh of relief, as the driver gets out. The driver pries open her trunk, and ransacks it. She hears a shot. She wonders if he's shooting at her. The smell of fumes tells her that he's shot her gas tank. She loses consciousness, certain that she won't wake up._

_The following afternoon, she wakes up. She finds herself in a hospital bed. She looks around, and sees family, and co-workers sitting by her side. She looks at the door. She finds a uniformed police officer standing outside her door. _

Vince looks at her. He shakes his head. He clears his throat.

"You were supposed to be off for a few weeks, and come back. What happened?"

"People would drive by my apartment all hours of the night, and flash their lights. Someone knocked on the door, and by the time I got there, they were gone. I kept getting hang-ups. Then one night, he called. He said that he wasn't done with me yet. I couldn't take it. I decided that I needed to leave, for a while. I moved, to Virginia."

"Why did you move back?" Frost wonders.

"Bentley was caught on an unrelated charge. He got caught with a prostitute. Unfortunately for him she was a minor. He also had an eight ball of cocaine in his pocket. The jury was not merciful," Vince responds.

"He got off easy," Jane disagrees.

"Does that bring us to the folder?"

"He started sending me letters."

"Threats?"

"Promises," Jane corrects.

"Why didn't you say anything? We would have thrown him back in jail," Vince wonders.

"You don't understand."

"Understand, what?" Barry inquires.

"It's not that simple. Now I'll give you my motive."

"Him attempting to kill you wasn't enough?" Vince raises an eyebrow.

"I can't kill everyone who attempts to kill me. I don't have that much time," she responds.

"Why is he different?" Barry wonders.

"Because of what he knows about me. He knows how to blackmail me. He knows which screws to turn, to set me off. I don't know how he found out, but he did."

"How he found what out?" Vince asks, on the edge of his seat.


	5. A Little Bombshell

She opens the folder. She takes out two pictures, and a piece of paper. She places the paper in the middle. She turns it around, for them to see. They study the evidence before them, in disbelief. Vince stares at Jane, and then at the pictures. Frost looks at her.

"Are these real?" Barry questions innocently.

She nods solemnly.

"Keep going," Vince insists.

_January 1st 2004, _

_The room has cleared out. Everyone has gone home, to sleep, or shower, or eat. Jane finds a sense of relief, that she is finally alone. The knock at the door, makes her groan._

_"Come in," she responds. _

_A doctor comes into the room. He stops when he reaches her bedside. She stares at him, waiting for him to speak._

_"Jane, I'm Doctor Matthews."_

_"Hi."_

_"I wanted to talk to you."_

_"When can I get out of here?"_

_"It's going to be a few days, maybe a week."_

_"I feel fine. I just want to go home."_

_"You're not ready to go home, just yet."_

_"I'm fine."_

_"We need to make sure that your injuries are healing properly."_

_"I'm sure that they can heal at home."_

_"I need to talk to you, about some of your test results."_

_"What test results?"_

_"It appears that you're anemic. While you're here we're going to be giving you an iron supplement. When you go home I'm going to send you home with some vitamins."_

_"Can this wait? I'm really tired."_

_"I understand that you're a cop."_

_"Yes," she nods, rolling her eyes at the same time._

_"I also understand that you have been undercover for some time," he adds._

_"Three months," she reveals._

_"So then you probably don't know."_

_"Know what?"_

She looks at the two men, sitting before her. She trails off. Vince stares at the evidence before him, refusing to look at her. Frost stares at her, in shock, confusion, and disbelief. She stares back at him, afraid to continue. She looks at the expressions on their faces, and she wants to stop. She doesn't want to have to deal with the looks of disappointment, and disapproval.

Frost notices that she's stopped abruptly. He swallows hard. Obviously the truth was going to hard to face. Not just for her, for all of them. He mentally prepares himself, knowing that it won't be enough. He takes a moment, and then asks the burning question.

"Know what?"

She exhales. She then casts her glance to the piece of paper on the center of the table. She rubs the scars on her hands. Korsak notices this. Frost feels his insides churning. She only did that when she was nervous, or it was about to rain. It wasn't going to rain today. There was surprisingly low humidity. Finally she begins to speak again.

_She furrows her brow in confusion. He stares back at her, with a look of pity. He says nothing in response to her question._

_"Know what?" she repeats._

_"I don't really know how to tell you this."_

_"Are you a real doctor?" she interrupts him._

_"I am an intern."_

_"So you don't really know what you're doing?"_

_"I still have things to learn, if that is what you mean."_

_"I don't know if I'm comfortable having you as my doctor."_

_"That's fine, if you decide that, but there is something that I think we need to discuss."_

_"Now? We have to do it now?"_

_"I think that it is best that we do it while your friends aren't here. You may need their support, but I don't think that you want them here for our conversation."_

_"What conversation?"_

_"Can I ask you a few questions?"_

_"Then, will you answer mine?"_

_"Answer mine first," the young doctor insists arrogantly._

_"Fine."_

_"You've been deep undercover. In that time have you partaken in any..."_

_"No. I have not used drugs, in the time that I have been undercover. Some cops may be rogue, but I am not."_

_"What about alcohol?"_

_"I don't drink when I'm undercover. It can lead to vulnerability, and vulnerability is not something that you can afford, when you're undercover. Not that it matters now, because I blew it."_

_"Do you smoke?"_

_"No, why are you asking me all of this?"_

_"I just want to know about an teratogens that you may have been exposed to. What about caffeine?"_

_"I drink coffee. I don't have much of a choice, if I want to stay awake. What is a teratogen?"_

_"It is an agent that has the potential to cause birth defects. Are you on any medications?"_

_"No."_

_"Why are you asking about something that has to do with birth defects? Why is it relevant?"_

_"You don't know."_

_"Know what?"_

_"This is the first time I've had to do this. I guess that I should have explained this more clearly, and concisely."_

_"Obviously. Will you tell me what's going on, please?"_

_"Yes."_

_She interrupts him, "How did my x-ray's look?"_

_"We didn't do any x-rays."_

_"Isn't that standard procedure?"_

_"We can treat an injury like it is broken, without having to expose you to teratogens."_

_"Terato-what? Why do you keep bringing them up? I don't understand."_

_"Jane, you're pregnant."_

_"No, I'm not," she argues._

_"You're about six weeks along."_


	6. Serve, and Protect

Vince stares at the picture of a pregnant Jane. That was not something he had ever envisioned, not even in his wildest dreams. He stares at the picture, and he wonders who took it. She doesn't smile at the camera. She doesn't even look at the camera. Her hands rest on her stomach. She stares at her stomach. He could never imagine his former partner, pregnant.

Frost stares at the picture of the newborn. A baby with a head-full of thick dark hair. A sleeping, innocent baby, that looks too much like Jane. This had to all be a dream. It couldn't be real. She couldn't have a kid. He would know. She would have told him. Where was the kid, now? How old would it be? Jane stares at the birth certificate. It's upside down, not that it mattered. She had it memorized. Name, birth date, time of birth, birth weight. Parents. She knew it all, by heart. It was a heavy burden to carry, all of these years.

Vince looks up at her, with a look of betrayal. She feels his eyes on her, but she doesn't look up.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I couldn't," she responds in a small voice.

"Jane keep going," Frost begs.

_August 24th, 2004_

_She stares at the baby in silence. She holds him close to her, as the nurse enters the room. She stops at Jane's bedside, but she doesn't say a thing. She knows to be patient._

_"You can take him now," Jane informs her._

_The nurse nods, and takes the baby from her. She gently places the newborn into the basinet. _

_"Are you sure about this?" the nurse asks._

_Jane shakes her head. The tears trail down her face, "No. I don't want to do this."_

_"Ok," she agrees, handing the baby back to Jane._

_October 24th, 2004_

_She reaches for the phone, trying to answer it, before it wakes the baby. She holds the baby in one arm, and reaches for the phone, with the other. _

_"Hello?" she answers._

_"I see you," he taunts._

_"How did you get this number?"_

_"I can't name my sources," he warns._

_"Don't call here again."_

_"Jane, don't hang up. I want to talk to you."_

_"I have nothing to say to you."_

_"I saw you in the park today."_

_She doesn't respond._

_"With a beautiful baby. I am assuming it's mine."_

_"You don't know what you're talking about."_

_"Why else would you move away? You didn't want anyone to know. You didn't want me to know. I'm hurt Jane. Do you really think that I would hurt my own child?"_

_"Don't call here anymore. Leave us alone."_

_"Do you ever think about me?"_

_"No."_

_"I bet you will tonight."_

_"Why would I do that?"_

_"You'll be lying in bed, with the baby across the hall. You'll lie there, and wonder if I could have snuck in, without you hearing me. I could come in through the window, by the crib, and take the baby, and you'd never know. You'd be asleep. You wouldn't know, until morning. By then I'd be long gone."_

_She hangs up the phone. She grabs her gun, her cell phone, and the diaper bag. She locks the door, as she leaves the apartment. She secures the baby in the back seat, and speeds away. Twenty minutes later, she stops at a hotel. She checks in, under a false identity, and locks herself in the room. _

_She sits down on the bed with the sleeping baby, and the phone rings. She assumes it's the front desk, so she answers it._

_"Hello?"_

_"You can't run Jane. You can't keep him safe, from me. If I want him, I'm going to have him. Understood?"_

_She hangs up. She grabs her things, and leaves the room. She drives all night, into the morning. She finds herself, somewhere in Ohio. She stops at an adoption agency. _

"And the calls stopped?" Vince asks.

"I thought that I could keep him safe. I thought that it was the only way I could protect him," she answers.

Frost touches her hand, gently. She looks over at him.

"You don't have to justify yourself to us."

"The calls stopped. I didn't hear for him. I moved home, and everything was ok. At least, as ok, as it could be. Then about a year later I started getting pictures. I thought at first that it was the adoptive parents. But they were taken from a distance. Then I realized that both of the adoptive parents were in the picture. I contacted the agency. They moved. They've moved at least every three months since then. He always finds him."

"Your motive to kill Nicholas. To keep him safe?" Vince probes.

"He has a name. It's Owen," Jane answers.

"You never told anyone?"

She shakes her head, "Not even my mother." She flips open the folder. She files through the papers, and pictures, to the back. She hands it to them. "Last time, this came with the picture," she reveals laying out the picture, and the piece of paper.

Frost reads it aloud, "'This time, I'm going for him, myself. It's time to meet my son, don't you think, Jane? Wait, you wouldn't want that, would you? You don't want him to know how you abandoned him. You gave him away, like a pair of old shoes. You didn't want him. I'm sure you don't want him to know that. How are you going to protect him this time? By the time that you get this it'll be too late.' When did you get this?"

"I got it yesterday. I found it in the mail when I got home, yesterday."

"He wanted us to think you killed him," Vince shakes his head.

"I didn't. I wanted him dead, but I would never kill him."

"Why not? You've killed before," Frost's cop instincts take over.

"One day Owen is going to want to meet me. I don't want to have to explain to him why I'm in prison. I don't want to have to tell him that I killed his father. I'm not ok with that."

"Jane?"

"Hm?" she looks up at Vince.

"Why didn't you ever go get him?" Frost questions.

"How could I keep him safe? On my own?"

"You're not on your own. You have people to help you."

"People who will look at me, the way you two are looking at me right now. They'll feel betrayed. They won't understand."

"I understand. You wanted to protect him," Frost reassures her.

"But I can't even do that. I never wanted kids. I always said that. When he was born, I realized that I would do anything for him. I would do anything to protect him. If I had to move away from my friends, my family, and my job, to do that, then I would. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't protect him. I thought that if I gave him up for adoption, that I could protect him. It was a closed adoption. I didn't think that Nick would find him."


	7. Coming Home

"Jane, the people who adopted him, what do they look like?" Frost wonders.

"I don't know," she shrugs.

"You don't know?" Vince raises an eyebrow.

"I've never met them. The adoption agency likes to place children in a family that will look like them."

"Jane I need there names," Frost insists growing more agitated.

"Frost? Something you want to let me in on?" Korsak wonders

"A mother would do anything to protect her child. But, not everyone thinks like Jane does," Frost responds.

"What are you saying?"

"It could be the adoptive mother," Frost theorizes.

The two men shoot out of the room. Jane gathers her things, and leaves the precinct. She starts towards her apartment, but somehow she finds herself at Maura's. She knocks on the door of the guest house. Her mother comes to the door. She cocks her head, and looks at Jane questioningly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

"Ma, there is something I need to tell you."

"Ok," she nods, leading Jane to the couch.

"Do you remember when I went undercover, and I had that really bad car accident?"

"That you lied about, and said was unrelated," Angela adds.

"I didn't lie."

"You lied to me," Angela replies, in a disappointed tone of voice.

"I'm sorry."

"I remember."

"They found one of the people associated with that investigation, dead, today," Jane reveals.

"And?"

"I may be a suspect," Jane adds.

"Why?"

"Do you remember how I moved away?"

"Yes. You refused to let me come see you. You said that you were too busy. It was the worst time of my life," Angela replies, dramatically.

"Mine too."

"Why are you bringing this up?"

"It has to do with what's going on."

"Which is what?" Angela wonders.

"The reason that someone would think I killed him."

"Which is what?"

"What would make _you_ kill someone, ma?"

"I would never kill someone, unless they hurt you, or your brothers."

"Exactly," Jane nods.

"Exactly? I don't understand."

Jane pulls a picture out of her pocket. She shows it to Angela.

"What about him?"

"His name is Owen."

"I know," Angela responds.

"You know?"

"I saw him at the grocery store, yesterday, with his father."

"Ma, I've got to go," Jane tries to downplay the sense panic that is coursing through her body.

"What were you going to tell me?"

"It can wait."

She rushes back to the precinct. She takes a seat at her desk.

"Frost have you gotten a hold of them?"

"Owen's adoptive father died three years ago in a car accident."

"And the mother?"

"We can't find her."

"My mother said that she saw him in the grocery store, with his father, yesterday."

"What are you saying?"

"I think that Nick took him."

"There was no sign of a kid, at that brownstone."

"She probably took him, back. Do you have her address?"

"Yes," he nods.

"Let's go," she insists.

They roll up to the house, in the suburbs. It has a white picket fence, and a manicured lawn. They block the street, four cruisers deep. They group together to come up with a plan. Jane shakes her head. She doesn't say a word. Vince looks at her.

"Jane, why don't you try knocking," he suggests, "Less traumatic."

She nods.

They all watch, from the street, as she approaches the house. She steps up the stairs, and stops at the door. She unclasps her holster. She puts one hand on the gun on her hip. She wears her vest. She knocks on the door. She hears footsteps. She hears the door being unlocked. The door comes open.

She stares at the person on the other side. He smiles at her.

"Hi," he greets.

"Who is it?" a woman calls from inside.

"Jane," he answers.

She furrows her brow, wondering how he knows her name. She looks at him. Then the gunshot goes off. She stares at the boy. He looks at her in fear.

"Are you ok?" she asks.

He nods. She quickly examines him, visually. She notes that he hasn't been hit. She reaches for him, knowing what scene has unfolded inside the house.

"Come on," she offers him her hand.

He steps forward, and hugs her. She scoops him off the ground. She carries him away from the house towards the cruiser. Officers flood past her, towards the house. She places the dark haired little boy in the passenger's seat of the cruiser, leaving the door open. She bends down to his level.

"Are you ok?" she asks him.

"She shot herself."

"I know."

"She said that you would come for me."

"She did? How did you know I was the right person?"

"She said that you'd look like me," he reveals to her.

"I see. Owen what happened?"

"I walked outside to get the mail, the other day, and a car stopped. I was going back inside, when I heard the door slam. I turned around, and a man was running at me. He grabbed me, and threw me into the car."

"Then what happened?"

"He took me for ice cream."

"What else?"

"We went to the grocery store, and got popcorn, and soda, to go with our movie," he recounts.

"Do you know who he was?" Jane wonders.

"He said his name was Nick, and that he was my dad. My real dad."

"What did you say?"

"That I didn't like him," Owen admits.

"Why not?"

"He was angry. And he had lots of guns."

"I have guns," Jane points out.

"You're a cop. He's a bad guy."

"Oh."

"Then she came. He was asleep, on the couch. She told me to wait in the car. I did. I heard two gunshots. Then she came out, and we went home."

"That's it?"

He shakes his head. "No. There's more."


	8. Detective Work

"Ok."

"She said that you would come for me," Owen reveals.

"Did she say why?"

"You know why."

"Of course I know why. Do you know why?"

"I know that I'm adopted."

"You do?"

"Yes. We talk about it all the time," he adds.

"What do you way?"

"I just listen, mostly."

"What does she say?" Jane wonders.

"That my mom wanted me to be safe, from a bad man. I guess she was talking about Nick."

"Yes," Jane confirms.

"That she thought that I would be safer, if she didn't keep me."

"Uh huh."

"And that she wanted to keep me, and that she loved me. She told me that maybe I would understand, one day, when I'm grown up, and I have a child. She said that a parent would do anything to protect their child."

"That's true."

"This is all my fault."

"No, Owen this is not your fault."

"Yes it is," he nods.

"Why would you say that?"

"My birthday was yesterday," he points out.

"I know."

"And last week, when she asked me what I wanted, I told her that I didn't want to move anymore. I told her that I just wanted to be safe."

"What did she say?"

"She said that she would take care of it."

"Owen, did she say anything else?" Jane probes.

"She bought the gun, that day. From a pawn shop. It looks like yours," he points to her holstered weapon.

"Did she make any phone calls?"

"Yeah," he nods.

"To who?"

"Um..."

"Nick?"

"No. She called Mark."

"Mark?"

"Mark... he had a funny last name. I don't remember it. I wrote all down, though."

"You can't go back inside right now."

"It's in my tree house."

"Your tree house?"

"Yeah, it's great. I take my notebook everywhere. I want to be a cop, when I grow up. She packed my bag."

"Packed your bag?"

"She said that she was going to fix everything. She said that you would come to get me. She said..."

"Owen what did she say?"

"Can we go get my bag?"

"Ok," Jane nods.

She follows him into the backyard. He climbs up the ladder against the tree. He goes into the tree house. He comes back with his back pack. He climbs down the ladder. He silently follows her back to the car. He climbs back into the car, and unzips the front pocket. He pulls out the notebook. He hands it to Jane. He pulls out a medallion, on a chain. He puts it in her hand, she just looks at him.

"This is yours, do you want it back."

She fights off the tears, "Nope, it's yours. You keep it."

"Jane?"

"Hm?"

"What do you want me to call you? Jane? Detective Rizzoli?"

"Whatever you want to call me."

"You're my mom. You left this with me, when you left me with Miss Faith. It's Saint Michael, the patron saint of police officers."

"Yes," is all she can manage to get out.

"You named me after him?"

She nods.

"Owen Michael."

"Yes."

"Are you going to take me home?" he inquires.

"I don't know, Owen. It's not that simple."

"It's what she wanted."

"It isn't that easy, baby boy. You see..."

He waves his finger. He pulls out a pack of tissues, and hands it to her.

"Thanks," she sniffles.

He reaches into his bag, and pulls out a folder. He hands the folder to Jane. It's a manila folder, that has two rubber bands binding it, to keep it's contents from spilling out.

"She said it's all notarized, I don't know what that means, but she said for me to tell you."

"Owen, what is this?"

"Um... can I have my notebook?"

She hands him the palm sized spiral notebook. He flips through the pages. Finally he stops. He begins reading to her.

"Last will, and testament. Custody papers. Immu-," he stops.

He holds the pad up for her to read. She instantly recognizes that it's adult handwriting. It was a list that Kimberly Grant had written for her son, Owen. Jane reads the rest outloud.

"Immunization records. Medical records. Owen's list of likes, and dislikes. Owen's friends. Owen's friend's contact information."

"Yeah, oh that last name is in here," he tells her, flipping back several pages.

"Mark Fur-elli? I don't know if I spelled it write, but that what it sounded like."

"Mark Fa-relli, maybe?"

"Yeah, that's it. Does that help?"

"Yes, it helps a lot."

"You're not just saying that?"

"Mark Farelli, is sort of like Nicholas Bentley's assistant."

"His minion?"

Jane smiles, "Exactly. How do you know what a minion is?"

"Movies. Jane?"

"Yes, Owen?"

"I told you it was my fault."

"It's not your fault Owen."

"Jane?"

"Hm?"

"Was Nick really my dad, like he said?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed."

"He's a drug dealer," Owen replies.

"Yeah," she nods.

"Why..."

"I'll explain it, one day, when you're much older, ok?"


	9. Secret

Jane watches, as Owen sleeps, in her chair. She listens to her co-workers.

"So what happened?"

"Kimberly Grant is Mark Farelli's half sister. She married Oscar Grant, and they moved to Ohio. It was just a coincidence that they had applied for adoption. When Mark heard that you might be in Farelli, he did some investigating. He used to be a cop, so it wasn't hard. He tracked down Owen, and Nick made a charitable donation on the behalf of the Grant's to the adoption agency. They were hurting for money, so they gave Owen to them.  
>Nick didn't want to deal with a baby, or a toddler. He told Kimberly that when Owen was old enough he would come get him. Oscar had no idea. He just wanted a child. He found out, and confronted Nick. He was in a car accident on the way home. By this time Kimberly had grown attached to Owen, and she wasn't going to let him go.<br>Nick kept badgering her. Finally she agreed. But, it wasn't because she was willing to give him up. She wasn't about to give her son up, to a drug dealer. She knew that Owen was tired of moving, and that he wanted to stay with his friends. She also had information about the birth mother. She happened to stumble upon Jane's picture in the paper, and put two and two together.  
>Kimberly called Mark, and told him to arrange things. She said that it had to look like a kidnapping, so that Owen wouldn't know, because he would figure it out. But she planned on killing Nick all along. She wanted her life back. She wanted Owen to have a life. So she got Owen back, and she killed Nick. Then when we showed up, and Jane went to the door, she knew that Owen was finally going to be safe. So she shot herself.<br>It turns out that on her way to kill Nick, she stopped by to see her half brother. Neighbors found his body about an hour ago," Vince sums it up.

Jane looks at them, and then at Owen.

"Go home," Vince insists.

"I have something I need to do first."

"I'm sure that it can wait," Vince argues.

"No, it can't. I got interrupted, and I need to take care of it, or I'll be the next dead body, you find."

"What do you need to do?" Vince wonders.

"Tell my mother."

"I'll watch him," Frost offers.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. He's like a mini version of you, and I seem to keep you alive, so I think I'm qualified."

"Ok," she agrees.

She finds herself again, at her mother's doorstep. She knocks on the door. Angela answers the door in her pajamas.

"What are you doing here so late, Jane? It's after eleven."

"I needed to finish that conversation that we started earlier."

"It couldn't wait until morning?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Come in, I guess."

Jane follows her in.

"Have a seat," Angela points to the couch.

"I can't stay."

"What is it that you need to tell me?"

"I haven't been entirely truthful about why I moved away."

"Why did you move away?"

"I got involved with a really bad guy."

"A really bad guy?"

"When I was undercover with DCU. I got involved with one of the people that I was investigating. I didn't mean for it to happen. I'm not proud of it. I wish that I could change it."

"Ok?"

"I left, because I was afraid that he would ruin things."

"Things what things?"

"I was afraid of what he might do."

"Jane I don't understand."

"Not to me," Jane clarifies.

"To who?"

"I left because I was pregnant," Jane reveals.

"You were what?"

"I didn't want you to know."

"Why wouldn't you want me to know?"

"Because I couldn't stay, and be safe. I knew you would never let me go, if you knew. I had no choice."

"What were you planning on doing?"

"Having the baby, and never coming home," Jane admits.

"Why did you come home? Did something happen? You don't have a baby."

"That was seven years ago."

"You don't have a seven year old."

"I was at home one night, with the baby, and Nick called me. He was watching me. He followed me to the hotel. I drove all night. I found an adoption agency. I thought that it was the only way to keep him safe."

"You have a child out there in the world, somewhere?"

"No," Jane shakes her head.

"No?"

"Owen is safe, it's all over."

"Owen? The little boy I saw at the grocery store, today?"

"Yes."

"That is your son? My grandson?"

"Yes."

"I thought you said that man was dead," Angela recalls.

"He is."

"What happened?"

"It's a long story. A very long story, and I'm very tired. I will have a few weeks off, so I'll have plenty of time to explain it, though."

"What about Owen? What happens to him? Where is he?"

"He's at the precinct," Jane reveals.

"He's dead?"

"No. Frost is watching him. He fell asleep hours ago."

"You have a son?"

"Yes."

"And you never told me?"

"I never told anyone, until today."

"Who knows?"

"You, Frost, and Korsak, right now."

"And what about Maura?"

"I'll tell her tomorrow."

"Jane are you being serious right now?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Then go home."

She carries the sleeping boy into her apartment. She gently places him on the couch. She stands over him, and watches him as he sleeps. It was eerie how much he looked like her. Dark waves of hair. Of course his is cut shorter than hers. His hair stops just below his earlobes. Dark eyelashes, that go on for miles. Dark brown eyes. Her lips. The ears, and the nose, that had to be from someone else, but for the most part he looked like her. He was hers. The rest of the custody issues would have to be sorted out, but tonight he was home. Finally, she had him back. Finally the missing puzzle piece was returned, and she could breathe a little bit easier, knowing he was safe. She bends down, and kisses his forehead.

"Goodnight, Owen," she whispers.

"Night."

"I'm going to my bed."

"K," he mumbles.


	10. Q & A

She tries to clear her mind, of the plague of thoughts that swirls around, like a tempest. She lies in her bed, wide awake. How was she supposed to sleep? She had this secret that she had kept, for so long, and now it was out. Now she had to deal with the consequences of her actions. There was no more denying the truth.

The truth? She isn't entirely what the truth is, or was. It was just a mess, that is all she knows. A mess. She had been duped. She was young, and had gotten caught up in the job, and then... she shakes the thought from her head. She never loved him, she had just been doing her job. That, of course was not going to be a good enough answer for the little boy sleeping on her couch. Her son. How is she supposed to explain to him, how they got here, how he got here.

She had never expected this to happen. She never expected to end up pregnant. But she had. She had a son. A son, whom she had chosen to give up. The hardest decision of her life. One followed by many sleepless nights. A decision she had never been proud of, or even sure of. From the moment she made it, it had felt like a mistake. Now she had him back, at least for the moment. This was going to take a lot of explaining, on her part.

She fights the urge to wander into the living room, and watch him as he sleeps. She rolls over, and puts a pillow over her head. This proves futile, as the noises are coming from inside her head. She rolls back over, when she hears footsteps. She looks up, and finds a small figure standing in her doorway.

"I thought that you were asleep," she comments.

"I woke up."

"Do you need something?"

"I have a lot of questions."

"Can they wait until morning?"

"Were you asleep?"

"No," she admits.

"So..."

Jane pats the bed, next to her, "Come on," she motions.

He climbs into the bed next to her. He lies on top of the covers, on his side, facing Jane.

"What questions do you have, Owen?"

"Why did she do it?"

"It's complicated."

"I know. I just don't understand. Wasn't there another way?"

"Maybe."

"She didn't have to kill anyone," he comments.

"No. She didn't. That wasn't the right way to do things."

"Why didn't you want me?"

"Is that what you think?"

"Yes," he nods.

"I did want you."

"Then why didn't you keep me?"

"I wanted to."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because..." she tries to come up with a tactful way to explain the truth to him.

"Because?"

"Nick..."

"The guy who was a drug dealer?"

"Yes, him."

"He's my..."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why is he my biological father? Why did you pick him?"

"I should have chosen more wisely. I made some bad choices."

"Like having me?"

"No. Like getting involved with someone like Nick."

"Why did you give me up?"

"I moved away, after I found out that I was pregnant with you. I didn't want anyone to find out, because then he would find out. So, I left Boston. I thought that I was safe. Then, one night he called and said that he could see me. I thought he followed me. I didn't know how else to keep you safe. I knew that wherever I went, he would have someone follow me. I thought that if I gave you to someone else, he would give up. I didn't think that he could track you."

"Jane?"

"Hm?"

"I thought that you were supposed to put bad guys in jail."

"That is how it is supposed to work, but it's just not that simple, Owen. Things don't always go according to plan."

"Like me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't part of the plan."

"No, but I wouldn't change it."

"Am I going to stay with you, forever?"

"I don't know."

"That's what she wanted."

"I know."

"That's what I want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Is that all of your questions?"

"Why is it that sometimes the bad guys win?"

"Lots of reason. The bottom line is, that cops have to follows rules, and laws, and bad guys choose not to."

"So it makes them harder to catch?"

"Exactly."

"Oh, I meant to tell you, I'm allergic to dogs."

"So am I."

"I saw him before, you know."

"Who?"

"Nick."

"When?"

"He came to my little league games."

"When?"

"For as long as I can remember. I thought it was weird that he was always there, cause he didn't have any kids on the team."

"Did he ever say anything to you?"

"No. He just watched. I think that I saw him at my soccer games too."

"Yeah?"

"He had some other guy with him. I saw the other guy all the time. When I got out of school. In the grocery store. Outside our house."

"I know."

"Why were they following me?"

"Because Nick wanted to keep tabs on you."

"If you didn't tell him about me, then how did he find out?"

"That's a very good question. I don't know."

"Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"I think that you were set-up."

"For Nick's murder?"

"No," he shakes his head.

"What do you mean?"

"My mom said that she knew I was supposed to be hers, the second she saw me."

"You thought that was weird?"

"She said the first time she saw me, at the hospital. I wasn't in the hospital, was I?"

"When you were born."

"Jane, do you know what her job was?"

"No."

"She was a nurse."


	11. Intruder

Eventually after the wheels in her head stop turning, she falls asleep. Hours later she feels herself being nudged awake. She feels an elbow trying to bring her back to consciousness.

"Wake up!"

"What?"

"There was someone looking in the window."

"Owen go back to sleep, it was just a bad dream."

"It wasn't a dream. I was asleep, and then I heard a noise. I woke up, and someone was looking in the window."

Jane rolls over, and looks out the window. It's illuminated by the moonlight. She sees nothing, but end the conversation she throws back the covers, and gets out of bed. She walks around the bed, to the window. She looks out the window. She sees nothing. She looks down, on the street, and sees no one. She double checks the lock, and shuffles back to bed. She climbs back into bed, and pulls the covers over her.

"Owen there is no one looking in the window."

"Not now."

"Owen."

"You don't believe me?"

"I believe that you think you saw someone looking in the window."

"Then you won't believe me, when I tell you who it looked like."

"Who did it look like?"

"Nick. It looked like Nick."

"Owen, that isn't possible. He's dead."

"Are you sure?"

"I saw his body."

"Did you..."

"Would you like me to call my friend Maura? She did the autopsy."

"That's where you cut someone open, after they're dead, right?"

"Yes."

"Call her."

"Owen, it's three o'clock in the morning. I can't call her, and wake her up."

"I know what I saw."

"Owen, go back to sleep. I know that you've been through a lot the past couple of days, and things are confusing right now. You're safe, here, go to sleep."

"Ok," he nods, closing his eyes.

She's nearly asleep, when she hears a noise. She reaches for the gun, in the drawer of her bedside stand. She listens closely. She pops the magazine into the gun. She looks over, and finds Owen sleeping soundly. She hears a door open. Her door open. She inches herself out of bed. She tiptoes out of the room, down the hall, in the dark. She bumps into Owen's bag, at the edge of the living room.

In the dark she can make out a figure. A male figure, who stands frozen, hoping she won't see him. Or hear him. She hears him breathing. She swallows hard.

"Drop your weapon," she warns.

He doesn't respond. She hears him step closer. She doesn't hesitate, going into protect, and serve mode. She aims, and fires, one shot. She hits the assailant in the leg. She hears him running out of the apartment. She resists the urge to chase after him, knowing not to leave Owen alone. She locks the door, and waits. She hears a car fire up. She looks out her window, and finds a black sedan speeding down the street. She makes some mental notes in her head, about the car, and then heads into the hallway.

She walks into her bedroom, to check on Owen. She stops in the doorway. She tucks her gun into the waistband of her pants.

"Owen, are you ok?"

"What's going on?" he questions.

"Turn on the light," she tells him.

He flips on the lamp. She checks the room, and once she's satisfied that it's clear she places the gun back in her bedside stand. She looks over at Owen. He leans against the headboard. He hugs his knees to his chest. She sees the fear in his eyes.

"What's going on?" he repeats his question.

"What's going on, is I should have listened to you earlier."

"What happened? Did you shoot someone?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Someone was in the apartment?"

"Yes."

"Should we stay here?"

"No, but I have to make a phone call first, ok?"

"You're not going to leave me, are you?"

"No," she shakes her head.

She calls Frost. When she hangs up she heads into her closet, and changes her clothes. She grabs a change of clothes, and throws it into a duffle bag, along with her toothbrush, and deodorant. She finds Owen where she left him.

"Come on."

"I'm scared."

She grabs her weapon, out of the drawer. She slings the bag over her shoulder. She reaches for Owen.

"Come on," she coaxes him.

He slides off the bed, and takes her hand. She flips on the light in the hallway. He sticks close to her side. She turns on the kitchen light. It illuminates the living room. She notes the blood trail, leading out of the apartment. She grabs Owen's bag. She points to the floor.

"Watch the blood."

"Ok," he nods.

When they reach the street, she puts him into the car. She checks the backseat, and the trunk, and then climbs into the car, herself. She locks the door, and dials her phone.

"Where are we going to go?"

"Somewhere safe," she answers.

The party on the other end of the phone finally answers, after four rings.

"Dr. Isles," she answers in a sheepish voice.

"I know that it's late. I know that I woke you up."

"Jane why are you calling me?"

"I need a place to stay."

"What's wrong with your apartment?"

"It's a long story."

"You're always welcome to stay here."

"I'm bringing someone else."

"Who?"

"It's a long story."

"Are you going to explain?"

"His name is Owen."

"And?"

"I'll explain when you meet him."

"I'll leave the door unlocked for you."

"You're not going to wait up?"

"No. I just got in a few hours ago, I'm exhausted."


	12. Should Have Known Better

By the time she reaches Maura's, Owen is asleep in the backseat. Jane parks the car, and kills the engine. She grabs Owen out of the backseat. She grabs their bags, and carries him up the walkway. She finds Maura's door unlocked, as promised. She flips lights off, as she walks through the house. She reaches one of the many guest bedrooms. The closest one to the door. She drops the bags on the floor, and then gently places Owen on the bed. She grabs a spare blanket off a chair, in the corner of the room. She tucks the blanket around him, and climbs in bed next to him. She slides under the covers, and goes to sleep.

Hours later, she wakes up. She rolls over, and finds Owen still sleeping. She watches him, as he sleeps. He looks like an angel, under a blanket, with lizard pajamas on.

"No, go away," he mumbles in his sleep.

She shakes her head. He was like her. Too much like her. She talked in her sleep too. There was no denying that he was hers. And she still hadn't relayed that to Maura. That promised to be an interesting conversation. She thinks how surprising it is, that Maura hasn't barged into the room yet. She looks up, and finds Maura standing in the doorway. Maura doesn't say a word. Jane carefully gets out of the bed, and moves towards Maura. Maura steps into the hallway. Jane follows. She closes the door behind her. She leaves a crack, just in case.

She follows Maura into the kitchen. Jane takes note of Maura's silk pajamas. Obviously it was still early, or Maura would already be dressed. Finally Maura breaks the silence.

"Coffee?" Maura asks, as she reaches for coffee mugs.

"Please," Jane answers.

Maura pours two cups of coffee. She hands Jane one, and takes one for herself. She leans against the counter, and stares at Jane, trying to will her to speak. It doesn't work.

"Did you kidnap a kid?" Maura questions.

"No."

"So you're not hiding out, because you're a fugitive?"

"No."

"Why are you here?"

"Someone broke into my apartment last night."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure."

"Who is he?"

"Who?"

"The boy. Who is he? Why do you have him?"

"His name is Owen."

"I understand that much. Who is he?"

"He's my son," Jane reveals.

"Excuse me? You're kidding right? Jane you don't have a son."

"I do," Jane corrects.

"No, you don't. I think that is something you would mention. I mean he has to be what, six?"

"Seven. He just turned seven."

"Why didn't I know?"

"I never told anyone."

"You never told anyone? Why not?"

"I might as well tell you the whole story."

"Please."

"I was working undercover with DCU," she begins.

"Ok."

"I was trying to catch a drug dealer. I mean we're talking big time. Moving millions, and millions of dollars of products a day."

"Ok."

"Some of the other people I was working with posed as buyers. They wanted someone on the inside, so they chose me."

"Ok."

"I didn't exactly fit in. So I did what I could, to get the information that I needed."

"Meaning?"

"If you want to take an operation down, you go to the source. I got close to the guy in charge. Nicholas."

"The man in my morgue?" Maura attempts to clarify.

"Yes."

"How close?"

"I went too far. I over committed to my role."

"Ok."

"One night, he told me that he knew I was a cop. I woke up with a gun to my head. He told me he knew because if I were a civilian I would be panicking, but I wasn't. We had an argument, and I left. On my way to the precinct I was in a car accident. All of my evidence was stolen. I woke up in the hospital."

"How does this related to that?"

"I'm getting there. After all my visitors left, my doctor came in. He informed me that I was pregnant," Jane replies.

"Oh."

"By a drug kingpin. I decided to leave Boston. He had it out for me, and I thought that it was the only way I would be safe. I thought that I was safe. After I had Owen, one night I got a phone call, that he was watching me. I thought he followed me. I knew that with his resources there was no way I could keep Owen safe. I decided that the only way, was to give Owen up for adoption. I didn't hear from him, for a while. But then he found Owen. They had to move at least every three months," Jane adds.

"How did Nick end up dead?"

"Owen's adoptive mother killed him, so that he would leave them alone."

"Why was someone in your apartment?"

"Owen woke me up, and told me that someone who looked like Nick was looking in my window, at him. I thought that he was just having a bad dream. Then I heard someone in the apartment."

"Jane that's not possible. I did the autopsy," Maura reminds her.

"Tell me about his feet."

"His feet? Why do you want to know about his feet?"

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?"

"No. Should I have?"

"I shot him in the foot, almost eight years ago."

"There was nothing. The man on my table had never been shot in the foot."

"Are we really saying that Nick could still be alive?"

"Jane, that's what _you're_ saying," Maura corrects.

"How am I supposed to protect him?"

"Jane?"

"Yes, Maura."

"You should have told me."

"I know."

"You have a son."

"I know."

"Now what?"

"She killed herself."

"I heard," Maura admits.

"She left him to me."

"Oh. How..."

"I don't know if I can do this. I don't know how to take care of him. I don't know how to protect him."


	13. The Whole Truth

Jane hears her phone ringing in the other room. She races towards the bedroom, to keep the ringing phone from waking Owen. By the time she reaches Maura's guest bedroom, Owen is awake. He hands her the phone. She takes it from him.

"Go back to sleep. I'll just be in the kitchen, ok?"

He nods, closing his eyes. She walks out of the room, into the hallway. She finally puts an end to the incessant ringing.

"Rizzoli," she greets.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine Frost. Why are you calling, so early?"

"I wanted to update you on some things."

"Ok."

"The blood in your apartment matches a known sample of Nicholas Bentley."

"You're telling me that I shot him?"

"That's what I'm saying. I'm not sure how that can be, but..."

"Frost pull Nicholas Bentley's birth certificate."

"Why?"

"Maura said that the man she has in autopsy was never shot in the foot."

"So?"

"I shot Nick in the foot."

"But the DNA matched."

"I think that we should consider the possibility that he has an identical twin."

"Jane are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Ok. I'll check on it. I'll call you when I know more."

"Ok," she hangs up.

She tucks the phone in her pocket, and returns to the kitchen. Maura waits on her, with a fresh cup of coffee.

"Frost?" Maura guesses.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"The blood in my apartment matches Nicholas Bentley."

"What are you thinking?"

"That Owen was right."

"You think that Nicholas Bentley is still alive?"

"Yes."

"So who's in the morgue?"

"His identical twin."

"Does he have an identical twin? I guess we'll find out. Won't we?"

"Jane I..."

"You know it makes sense now."

"What makes sense?"

"We could never catch him, because while he was supposed to be doing a drug deal, he would be spotted somewhere else. He always had an alibi. It was always like he was in two places at once. If he had an identical twin, then he could be."

"You think that the brother took the fall?"

"No one knew anything about Nicholas Bentley, until he popped up here ten years ago. He just showed up one day, and started his business."

"What is his business front?"

"A used car dealership."

"He doesn't sell very many cars?"

"He sells tons of cars."

"Then why was anyone ever suspicious."

"In a recession you shouldn't sell that many cars. But, when you sell them to ex-cons without any proof of employment you can sell a lot."

"Jane?"

"Yes, Maura?"

"Can we get back to the other part of the equation?"

"What other part?"

"Owen."

"Right," she nods.

"You have a son? And you never told me."

"I told you, I never told anyone."

"Why not?"

"I couldn't afford to. I thought that I could keep him safe, if no one knew."

"Did that work?"

"No."

Maura looks at her. Jane tries to look away. "You never forgave yourself, did you?"

"Forgave myself?"

"For making that choice."

"How could I? I made the wrong choice. I never expected to feel the way that I did."

"What do you mean?"

"I never wanted to be anyone's parent. But..."

"But you were."

"I would do anything for him. I never wanted to give him up for adoption. I loved him, more than I ever thought possible. Every day, I wondered if I made the right decision. Every night, I lied awake, because I was sure that I hadn't. I made a mistake. His place was with me. I put everything before him."

"No, you didn't. You were trying to protect him."

"And I failed miserably. I didn't protect him. His adoptive father was killed in a car accident. He has been followed by his biological father, and his minions, for as long as he can remember. He was kidnapped. His adoptive mother shot, and killed someone, in order to protect him. She killed herself. Someone broke into my apartment. I have done nothing to protect him. He's scared, and he's hurt, and that is all my fault."

"You're the only one who can fix it."

"How? How am I supposed to fix it, Maura? How am I supposed to make up for all of the hurt, and pain, and confusion that I caused him? How?"

"You start over."

"I don't know how to do that. I don't know where to begin."

"You just love him."

"That isn't enough."

"You have to be there for him, when he needs you."

"I don't know how to do that. I am not maternal."

"There were never nights when he cried, and cried, and all you could do was hold him?"

"He was a good baby. He didn't cry that much."

"Jane he needs you. He needs you to tell him the truth. He needs you to be there for him."

"What if he winds up hating me?"

"One day he'll be a teenager, and I'm sure that he will. You should go spend some time with him, before your mother wakes up," she suggests.


End file.
